


The End.

by cunningAesthete



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunningAesthete/pseuds/cunningAesthete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Lalonde has an epiphany far too late</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumiho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumiho/gifts).



> This was able to be written because I was provided with a prompt that gave me everything I could have asked for in a piece that I could write. Angst is my specialty, so thank you for being happy with it. I hope that you really enjoy it.

She had been expecting it. Deep inside of her heart, she had known that they would never be able to truly triumph. It was always written that this story was going to be ended by someone who was not them, they were simply the architects laying out the blueprints for those that would come after them.

And yet…

Here she stood, Dave’s shoulder brushing her own, a smile tugging at the corner of their mouths as they settled into a stance, weapons drawn and staring up at the abomination that had been ruling Earth for as long as Rose could remember. Her needles glistened in the sun, tyrian first blood glistening against the softly glowing whiteness and she was distracted for a moment.

She knew that the moment that Her Imperiousness drew blood, it would be over.

She knew that when one of them fell, the other would not be far behind.

And yet here she was, still willing to risk it all on the off chance that her gut was wrong, willing to risk everything on the hope that they were going to end this reign of terror and somehow the world was going to come out better on the other side. Violet eyes tracked the movements of the wickedly grinning extraterrestrial in front of them, seeing her move with lightning speed and trusting Dave to have her back as she shifted and lunged, needles aimed in twin arcs for something, anything that looked like it was going to be vital.

It took her only a moment to realize that Dave’s sword was keeping the golden trident from piercing her through the throat. It took her a moment longer and she’d already missed her opportunity when the Batterwitch realized it took and took a flash jump backwards of her own. Her voice was loud, booming, a sound to it eldritch beyond all knowing, but the words and intent were obvious.

“You’re going to die here on this rooftop. I’m going to show the world how pathetic and useless it is to attempt to defy me. You will all burn.”

To be fair, those weren’t her exact words, but the embellishments weren’t necessary in Rose’s mental translation. Her drive right now was advancing, was this showdown on the rooftop and the world narrowed down to herself and the alien facing them and Dave. She spared him a glance and met his gaze for a whole minute before they were set upon by a flurry of blows, their combatant deciding that this was more than enough of a distraction to take advantage of. Her strikes were powerful, her hands and arms aching as she met her blow for blow and she knew, deep in her soul, that if they let the Batterwitch drawn a single drop of blood they were finished.

She knew it on a level she could never understand.

She would always know it.

Just like she knew that they were not going to escape. This rooftop was going to be their grave and her mind kept circling back to this in the most morbid of manners as she pushed the attack on her own front when the alien stopped to gloat, cackling with her head thrown back and daring them to get another shot in to match the thin line of imperial tyrian that had ceased seeping down her side to stain the black fabric of her bodysuit. She sprinted forward, skirt bunching and shifting around her legs and she heard more than saw the sound of the Sord clashing with gold, knowing that Dave had beaten her to the punch and she was happy to pause, thankful for him in ways she had never thought about as she caught her breath and realized how /old/ she felt.

They had been fighting for so long, hiding, running, killing, and destroying all who stood in their paths and this was the final fight, the “big boss” as Dave was fond of calling her, like this was just some stupid video game and they were thirteen years old again and realizing that the world was bigger than themselves and their minds were being groomed to stay obedient. It brought back to mind that first time, kisses and touches stolen in the chill of an autumn evening, ignoring the directive to cease reproduction, ignoring the world around them as the night devolved into fumbling and every unsure brush of hands and lips unraveled their precious little world a little more.

It brought to mind the first night that they had even deigned to use words the world couldn’t remember, soft whispers of love in the blossom of dawn and the feel of skin slick with sweat and the dew of morning sliding against itself in the patch of earth they had chosen as their secluded hideaway. (Even though she had complained about the bugs and the dirt and the he had bitched about the chill and the hardness of the ground.) 

It brought to mind the fact that they had unraveled an entire generation of obedience through the tiniest of gestures that this ancient horror had never conceived of.

It had also brought something else while she had been lost in memory.

A jet of red blood, stark against the sky, was all the warning she had as her mind clued her in to a fact that she should have put more attention towards.

They were finished.

The rebellion had ended.

She couldn’t not hope to triumph alone, but she could also never hope to be allowed to live. The alien cackled madly, taunting her with the broken half of the shittiest of Sord’s, Dave’s body the sheathe for the other half of it, and she saw a red so far removed from blood. It was rage, it was a violent curdle of primordial anger that bubbled up and fell from her throat in a raw, aching scream of /pain/ as she threw her life away in a futile attempt to end the Empress.

It was never going to work, she knew the numbers, knew everything about it, and so it was no great shock to her when actual pain bloomed in her chest, cracked its way through the chill that had overtaken her in her anger, and she looked down at the golden tines sprouted through her sternum. It was curiously beautiful, red bleeding through white around gold, and she was mesmerized for the few moments it remained a part of her.

Then she was on the ground and her whole world was Dave’s face, his glasses shattered, nose bloodied, and the half-smile on his face frozen for a lifetime.

He had always been so handsome when he wasn’t trying. She could feel blood escaping at an alarming rate, her whole body was becoming cold and numb and strangely heavy, and her vision was dimming, but she expended the last bit of her energy knowing just one thing.

She had to hold his hand.

 

“You know… Its almost piteous. She was just a half inch too far.”


End file.
